


The Taste of Dreams

by lavenderandroses



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and awkwardness, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Modern Westeros, Realistic dreams, Slow Burn, a lot in the first couple chapters indicates the supernatural but really it's just the subconscious, updated less frequently than i would like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderandroses/pseuds/lavenderandroses
Summary: After she unexpectedly runs into an old acquaintance, Sansa Stark begins to have a recurring dream about him.You know, not just a weird, nonsense-dream kind of dream.And, like, definitely not a nightmare, even though more often than not it wakes her up in a sweat.But the worst part is it isn't even just a sex dream; it's a LOVE dream.Yikes.Maybe the key to making the dream go away is to make friends with this Jon Snow, because then she'll finally convince her naughty mind that she does NOT secretly want to have his babies. That will definitely work, right?HAH.





	1. something that is yet to be

**Author's Note:**

> We begin with Sansa, and a great deal of exposition. We'll see more from Jon as we go.

_Lips pressing to her neck, teeth lightly nipping her ear—_

Sansa let out a moan and readjusted in her sleep.

_He lowered his hands to the hem of her shirt, tentatively slipping them under and up, up, up, until he reached the soft cups of her bra. “Don’t stop,” she whispered breathlessly, her eyes closed and her head tilting back with pleasure and anticipation. His hands were so warm, so soft, so close to touching her intimately and sending electric jolts through her whole body. He wouldn’t stop now, he was so near, right there, and she just needed him to keep – ohh. She let out a sigh as his thumbs found her nipples, hands scooping her breasts out of her bra and kneading them together. Suddenly impatient, Sansa pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away as he squeezed once more, eliciting a moan. Pressing her eyelids together, she unclasped her bra as she felt soft hair brush against her collarbone. Before she could shrug her arms out of the straps, his mouth was on her breast, kissing, licking, sucking, and, oh, it was so much better than it had ever been before. “Yes, yes, please,” she whispered. She felt him smile against her and his teeth gave her a playful nip._

_“I’ve wanted this for so long, Sansa, I’m not stopping now,” he said._

_Sansa opened her blue eyes to find them locked to his grey ones._

_“I love you, Sansa Stark. Not just because of this, and not just now. I always have, I think. I needed you to know.”_

_Her mouth fell open in surprise for the slightest moment before it curled into a smile. She took his hands from her breasts and knelt down to his level, pressing her brow to his. “I love you too, Jon Snow.”_

_Jon Snow_

Sansa woke with a start, eyes wide and staring at the popcorn ceiling of her childhood bedroom. Sitting up, she clung to the dream that startled her awake, the dream where her brother’s childhood best friend was absolutely about to fuck her senseless. She looked around, as though the walls might somehow have read her mind and known of her carnal dreams of Jon Snow. Satisfied that the house around her was still quiet, Sansa flopped back against her pillows. _Well_ , she thought. _That’s new._

\----------

_Before_

Sansa Stark had known Jon Snow for almost as long as she could remember. Unlike her parents, she can’t remember exactly the day Robb came in from playing outside with a mop-headed shadow he picked up down the street, but she does remember her curiosity at this strange boy’s increasing presence in her home. She can’t remember the first time Lyanna Snow and her son came over for dinner, but she does remember how quickly Lyanna and her own father, Eddard, took to each other. She remembers how similar their senses of humor were, and how surprised they were to learn they had grown up just blocks apart from each other as children, going to the same primary school where Lyanna had even been in class with Sansa’s uncle Benjen. She remembered how at first her mother was uncomfortable with Lyanna, a very different kind of woman from herself who seemed so like her husband in ways that Catelyn was not, before Catelyn realized that Lyanna was more like someone who Ned could see as a sister than as a mistress. Sansa remembers watching her mother eventually becoming closer and closer to Lyanna herself, until the two families were basically one.

Sansa also remembers wistfully watching her brother and Jon playing in the yard with her younger siblings who couldn’t remember a time Jon wasn’t like part of the family. When she realized that her only sister was more interested in playing outside with the boys than playing house and dolls with her, she only got more jealous of the boy Arya saw as more of a sibling than Sansa. Even though Sansa knew her brothers and her sister loved her, she felt excluded from their games and kept them at arms’ length. And she couldn’t help focusing her jealousy on the person who had taken her place in her siblings’ games: Jon Snow.

Over the course of primary and secondary school, Sansa continued to pursue interests that she found feminine and appealing. She went from playing with dolls to making clothes for dolls to making clothes for herself and her friends. She sang in choir, learned piano, and insisted on playing the flute in her school’s band because it sounded like something a proper lady would play. She worked hard in school, had a couple close friends and many friendly acquaintances, and had a happy family life to round things out in her favor. When it came time for her to think about universities, she had the hardest time narrowing down her interests, but eventually decided to follow her passion and go to the big city to pursue fashion design.

Due to some…erm…interpersonal issues, Sansa’s time in King’s Landing at Maegor University was less than happy. Fashion design was a brutal game, and one Sansa found to ruin any joy her sewing had given her. She reapplied during her first year to the big school back home, the University of the North. Her brother Robb was a junior there and liked it well enough, and it would comfort her to be back somewhere cold. She may not have known what she would study, but she knew where she would be when her acceptance came back.

She had lived at home when she first transferred, taking comfort in the familiar, but by her junior year, she decided to give living on campus a try and moved into a suite with her oldest friends, Jeyne and Beth. It gave her confidence and independence to begin to enjoy being a young woman: going to parties, flirting with strangers, joining extracurricular groups, studying at coffee shops.

One such study session, on a grey autumn afternoon her senior year, Sansa was thumbing through a thirty page journal article on Madonna’s subversive femininity for her Music, Gender, and Sexuality seminar while she waited for the backed-up baristas to get to her order. She had been satisfied in the last year with her choice of a Women’s and Gender Studies major, but so much of the course work was emotionally heavy, especially as she focused herself in a track to prepare for law school. This music elective was still fascinating and enlightening but much, much less depressing. While analyzing the Madonna essay, she pulled up a playlist she had made of songs the article was dissecting, put on her headphones, and got comfortable at her corner table. Drinks were still coming out slowly, so she had a little time to kill.

Sansa only had two gears when she was trying to read academic journals: having to read every paragraph twice after realizing she hadn’t been paying any attention to what she was reading, or a laser-like focus where the world would just melt away. Honestly, it was usually the former. But this was Madonna (!) and gender theory (!!) and fashion-as-activism (!!!) and suddenly a coffee cup was blocking her view of the print-out.

Sansa blinked, taken aback.

_Coffee cup, coffee cup says “Sansa,” my coffee cup, someone holding coffee cup? Man hands (nice man hands, oh shut up Sansa), attached to person, person knows me_ —

_Wait, what the fuck. When did he grow all this lustrous hair? How did he get so ripped? This is not how I remember—_

“Jon?”

“After the fourth time they called your name, I figured I’d have a look around on the off-chance it wasn’t some other Sansa neglecting her order,” came the reply, with a shrug and a smile. “Good thing I was here, else this would have been a waste of a latte.”

Sansa blinked back at him as an awkward silence descended between the two of them. _SANSA you have known this man since you were a child. Say something. Say anything. Say—_

“Oh…well…thanks a latte!”

_Oh my gods. Sansa. What the hells. Why._

Jon Snow had always been a good sport, so it doesn’t surprise Sansa when he gives a good natured chuckle at her stupid pun. _Have his eyes always been that color?? WHAT IS GOING ON???_

“You’re welcome. Happy to help. I’ll let you get back to your work, there, since you seemed to be wrapped up.”

This time, Sansa decided to keep her mouth shut, give a tight-lipped smile, and nod as he turned and walked back toward the bar. She took a cautious sip of her drink, though it had been sitting long enough that it wasn’t quite hot enough to burn, and pulled out her mobile.

2:17 PM

_Robbo, brother of mine. What’s new with you?_

**R:** _Kids are in warm-ups for our match, can’t  
send you dog pics rn_

_Omg I do not only text you when I want pics of grey wind_

**R** : _Evidence points to the contrary but whatever_

**R:** _What are you up to then_

_I was just going to tell you a weird thing that just happened  
but if you’re too busy, just text me after the match_

**R:** _I mean we have a break for a few, I’m really  
 just supervising_

_So I’m doing reading for class at Dragonroast right off_  
_campus and I ran into Jon Snow? It was very weird. Is he_  
_living back in Winterfell now?_

**R:** _We literally talked about this like three weeks  
ago when Arya was home_

_I must not have been there for that??_

**R:** _You must not have been paying attention,_  
_you mean. Jon’s doing on his PhD at UotN. He started_  
_last spring, surprised you hadn’t run into him before_

**R:** _Sorry Sans but one of my players just took a tumble, gotta run_

Sansa, in fact, had not been paying attention to this particular conversation while Arya was home for her fall break. While she and Arya had gotten closer after Sansa came back north, and while Sansa had missed her while she was away at university in Braavos, their sisterly bond in no way resembled Arya’s frenetic, rambunctious affection for her big brother. Sansa tended to stay out of the way of those reunions to avoid flying elbows and excited half-sentences about topics she wasn’t in on. Jon Snow was definitely one such topic, even though she had mostly put her childhood Jon-Snow-inferiority-complex behind her, and she had had no reason to cue back in for this particular conversation. She couldn’t have known then the completely reality-altering truth that had just snuck up on her in her favorite coffee shop: Jon Snow had become _beautiful_.

After she had finished texting Robb, Sansa tried to start back on her reading but found that she had lost her perfect study moment. She packed her things back up, wrapped her scarf back around her neck, and threw on her jacket. As she stood to leave, latte in hand, she scanned the café to see if Jon was still there. He was, typing intently on his laptop, open books spread on his table, but he seemed to notice when she started toward the door. He caught her eye, and they exchanged a smile and a wave before she pushed into the autumn chill.

Sansa got as far as the crosswalk before she took a look back toward the green and white Dragonroast sign. _Shake it off, Sans. You’ve got finals._

\----------

She did have finals, and she did shake it off. The next weeks grew colder, and Sansa finished her penultimate exam week at UotN. She loaded in to her parents’ house for the winter holiday and helped Rickon with his studying. She read Bran’s university application essays and helped Arya deflect questions about what major she was planning to declare the next semester. Winterfall at the Stark house had become a cozy, intimate holiday since the eldest children had gone off to college and Sansa loved those quiet days with her family, exchanging stories and gifts and pretending for a moment that they hadn’t all been flung so far afield in life.

After Winterfall, though, was the Turn of the Year, which was decidedly _not_ a cozy, intimate holiday at the Stark house. Sansa’s parents, Ned and Catelyn, had a longstanding tradition of throwing a blowout Turning fete for their friends and, now that Robb, Sansa, and Arya were adults, their children’s friends as well. Sansa’s local guest list was pretty limited to her oldest friends-turned-roommates, Beth and Jeyne, who probably already would have been invited since their parents had been coming to this bash for years. Arya’s friends from school were from all over the continents, so when their mother had interrupted her stretches one morning and asked for her guest list, she had only responded, “No one, Mum,” before sighing dramatically and resuming her yoga practice. Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister’s feigned disappointment, remembering what a swell time Arya had with Robb and his old friend Theon last year. Arya had such a swell time that she spent much of the next day with a hoodie pulled over her eyes and earmuffs on to muffle any noises, only recollecting her attempt to duel Theon with a billiard stick after Sansa reminded her.

“Don’t worry, Arya,” Robb called out from the kitchen, interrupting her again. “Theon’s coming, so I expect you’ll be able to resume your jousting right where you left off.”

“How _dare_ you, you know full well it was a sword fight and not a joust—“

Sansa chuckled as her sister went in on their brother. Sansa wasn’t surprised Theon would be back, as he had been Robb’s guest at these things since before Sansa was allowed to attend. She made a mental note to remind him that he was not to get handsy with her or her friends no matter how much he had to drink. Catelyn began toward the kitchen, and Sansa was about to get off the couch to follow her when Robb caught her attention again.

“—Jon will be here this year, too, and he may be a better, slightly less ridiculous choice of sparring partner—“

“JON IS COMING?” Arya yelled. “You DOOFUS, you never tell me anything! Yeah, then, I’m good with no friends of my own. Pshh, ‘ _Theon’s coming_ ,’ like I give a flying fart when someone actually cool is going to be there. You’ll be too busy with that girl of yours to pay any attention to him anyway…”

_Theon isn’t allowed to get handsy but Jon—_ Sansa shook her head.

“Mum, do you need a hand?” _Because I really need a distraction_.

\----------

When the Turning arrived, Sansa had mostly managed to discredit her unbidden thought about Jon and his hands, turning out to greet guests in a Catelyn-approved sequined dress. Beth and Jeyne found her and the three shared how their holidays had been and how they were looking forward to their final semester together. Robb introduced her to his “friend” Talisa, a sharp and pretty nurse he had met in the Riverlands who just _happened_ to be visiting friends up north around the Turning, ignoring Arya’s snide remarks about the nurse playing doctor with him. As they were chatting, Catelyn caught Sansa’s eye.

“Love, if you would, refresh the punch bowl, please? I need to go say hello to Maege, she’s just walked in, and—“

“Of course, Mother, go,” Sansa reassured her and made her way toward the kitchen. She double-checked the recipe her mother had left on the counter as she measured spirits and soda and fruit juice into a pitcher. After a quick stir, she made her way to refill the bowl. As she turned around to return the pitcher to the kitchen, she collided with a sturdy, dark mass. “Oh, I’m so so—“

“Sansa! No, don’t worry about it, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Jon Snow, in the flesh, scratched behind his ear as he smiled sheepishly at her. “I was only going to come say hello, and beg your forgiveness for startling you at Dragonroast that day, so naturally I managed to startle you again.”

“Oh no, I hope you haven’t been worrying about that!” Sansa blushed. “It wasn’t that you startled me, I was just really into my course reading, you know, it was very interesting and I was just surprised, is all. And, you know, it took me a minute to register it was you because, well, I haven’t seen you in a while, and, really, it’s fine, I just…” She trailed off as she saw his smile grow wider. “Right, you knew that, of course. Well, hello to you too. I hope you’re enjoying yourself! If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my guests.”

“Of course. Thanks. Hopefully the next time we run into each other on campus, I won’t give you such a terrible fright!”

Sansa laughed at that and made her way back to her girls. Through the rest of the night, she found her eyes wandering to find Jon, who was eventually involved in some sort of stage combat demonstration with Arya. At one point, all the young adults came together to toast the turn of the year, which for Arya and Theon, meant a round of shots. When they rejoined the real adults, all a little drunker than they had been, they were just in time to count down the old year. As they all shouted “ZERO” Sansa looked around, laughing, at all the kissing couples, including Robb and his “friend.” As she looked past them, she found a pair of bright grey eyes locked with hers. When Jon noticed her gaze, he blinked and averted his own, and Sansa could have sworn that his cheeks reddened.

She didn’t have time to think about it, though, because at that moment her drunken little sister grabbed her face and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “HAPPY TURNING TO YOUUU!!!” Arya crooned. “Come, sissster, sing with me. The Night that Ended! Or…we could sssing the Bear and the Maiden Fair, but that’s not very holiday-ey, or we could MAKE UP a new song, a Turning Song! Come on…”

The rest of the night was spent with the young folks helping Arya come up with words to a song for the turning of the year, many of them not repeatable in mixed company, until she began to doze between stanzas. Sansa and her brother bid their guests a good night and helped them into their cabs or cars, depending on their level of intoxication, and carried Arya upstairs to her bed. As Sansa washed her face and traded her party dress for her pajamas, she thought about how much would be changing in the next year, as she graduated for university, looked for work, and began to prepare for her law school entrance exams. After a night like this one, Sansa’s heart was full enough that she could give in to a little bit of childish hopefulness; when they were but girls quietly ringing in the Turning, she and her friends would whisper about the old wives’ tale that said if you wish it on a star, the gods would show you a glimpse of your year to come in your dream that night. Smiling as she turned out her light, Sansa looked out her window to the brightest star and thought the old rhyme: _Seven-pointed star of light, show to me my future bright. In my dream, please show to me something that is yet to be._

It had never worked when she was a child, but the idea still made her smile. _Knowing my luck, I bet I’ll dream of test prep flashcards_. As she drifted toward sleep, she tried to shoo a pair of grey eyes out of her mind.

\----------

_After_

As Sansa continued to stare at her ceiling, she could feel how flushed she was. Her dream about Jon had been so startlingly real and she still felt it in her body. After sleep refused to come back easily, she tiptoed to the bathroom and splashed her face with water. _It was just one dream. You probably won’t even remember it when you wake up in the morning._ Her clock read 4:36 a.m., so she had plenty of time to sleep it off. _It’s just because you looked at him while everyone else ever was making out. AND you were drunk. And, I mean, he’s hot and it’s been a while. So chill._

_But what if it was a dream from the gods about my future? What if I’m actually supposed to fall in love with Jon?_

_Shut up, Sansa, and go the fuck to sleep._


	2. they had their roots in the old ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole story won't double every little thing from both perspectives, but I am a big sucker for exposition, and this is what felt right to follow what I already had.
> 
> Most of the first chapter had been sitting in my files for weeks, and I'm glad I finally had the courage to hit that post button.

All he had wanted was a coffee. It was that simple, right? He was more of a Darry’s Donuts man himself, but he had been scouring some microfiche at the library annex and the Dragonroast was right across the street. Caffeine addiction doesn’t care about brand loyalty, so he had shrugged on his sweater and dashed across the road to get a small—sorry, _tall_ —black coffee to tide him through the rest of his afternoon. As he was giving the barista his order, he heard another call a name that sounded like _Sansa_ , though he figured it probably wasn’t. You didn’t meet too many Sansas these days, did you? It was a little bit of a grandmotherly name, although the one Sansa he knew had always worn it beautifully. Funny coincidence, since he had just been texting with his ( _no, Jon, not yours)_ Sansa’s brother before he left the library. Robb and Jon had played football together in Winterfell and Jon’s talents on the pitch had paid his way at Wallice, the remote liberal arts school where he did his undergrad. Jon was done with that world, but Robb, who had only done so much as a coed intramural team in college, was now coaching the junior team at the secondary school where he taught. Robb’s Acorn Hall School was in for a tricky match that day against Harroway Academy’s team and Jon was happy to offer whatever insight he might have to Robb’s game plan.

“SANSA,” came the call from the barista, much more definitively this time. Jon had just dropped his change in the tip jar and his head jerked instinctively. He looked around cautiously, as it wouldn’t be outlandish for Sansa Stark to be in the same Dragonroast just off the campus of the university they both attended. No leggy redhead ( _stop it, Jon_ ) approached the bar, but no one else picked up the drink sitting there either. “SANSA?” called the barista again after another moment.

As Jon’s cashier handed him his cup, he thanked her and headed to the sugar packets when he noticed a familiar red braid snaking down the dark back of a chair. It might not be his ( _no, not his)_ Sansa, but the odds seemed to be increasing that it was. She had a pair of pretty sturdy headphones on and seemed engrossed in something in front of her, so he took a chance with a lap around the tables to make sure it was really her. One look at her profile confirmed that it was indeed the second eldest Stark child, so he made his way back to the bar to the fourth cry of “SANSA” and grabbed her drink.

\----------

The brief interaction that followed, even with its single, rather unimaginative pun, was one that Jon hadn’t been able to shake off. That was Sansa’s way. He knew he had always acted differently around her, and it started right of the bat this time. He had planned to grab his coffee and head back to the library. He was done microfiche-ing for the time being, but he needed do to some cross referencing and compilation of records he had been reading. He hadn’t wanted to leave his bag sitting in the annex, so he already had it with him in the Dragonroast. No harm in just staying put to do his work. _Really, this is the most efficient way to do it_ , he told himself _, since I’m eliminating that transit time. Definitely not because I want to wait and see if Sansa might want to say anything else to me. That would be pathetic._

She hadn’t had anything else to say to him ( _not that I really noticed, I really got a lot of good work done_ ), and he found her face popping into his mind at inopportune times, but he hadn’t seen her again until the winter holidays at the Starks’ grand Turning party. Being there with Robb and Theon, and seeing Sansa with her head together with Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole, really took him back. It could have easily been a school dance, if not for Robb’s southron lady friend and Arya’s drunken antics. While the others had been gathering at this party for the last several years, Jon had largely stayed farther north for the holidays. Since his mother had passed away when he was fourteen, Winterfall and Turning in Winterfell had felt more like reminders of what he had lost than causes for celebration. The Starks and his guardian, Jeor Mormont, had tried to make them as happy as possible, but Jeor had been understanding when Jon had preferred to stay at Wallice in Mole’s Town for the holidays after he began college. Jeor was a widower and his grown son had cut ties and moved to Essos years before, so he would drive up to spend Winterfall with Jon, and he and Jon had been a blessing to the soup kitchen during a high-demand, low-volunteer part of the year. Even after Jon had graduated, he had remained in the far north for a year to work a low-paying job at a nonprofit, saving money for graduate studies and trying to make things work with his college girlfriend.

So while this party of old, familiar faces took Jon back to old times, it also reminded him of how much had really changed in the last year. At least he was well over his break with Ygritte, which had honestly been a long time coming, but now he was a semester in to a doctoral program in religious studies, of all things. He had spent the night (and really the last several months) tiptoeing around his field of study with most people for fear that they’d think him some kind of religious nut, even though he would always explain that it was more of a sociological, historical study than something that he practiced himself. Robb understood—of course he would, he himself was a history teacher. The people who really knew Jon knew it was an excellent fit, and that University of the North was an excellent center for that field of study, but a lot of acquaintances assumed he was some kind of septon or red priest and it was always a long conversation that Jon would rather not have, especially with a few drinks in his system. As he had right now.

He had watched casually as Robb and Arya had gone to introduce Talisa to Sansa and her friends, letting whatever nonsense Theon was on about stream in one ear and out the other. He had watched casually as Mrs. S ( _you can call her Catelyn now, you’re a grown man_ ) had extracted Sansa from the group and Sansa had gone into the kitchen. He had watched casually as Sansa carried a large pitcher of punch over to the punch bowl, and had much less casually found himself headed in the same direction.

 _It’s just like school but with more alcohol_ , he found himself thinking. _She has the same beautiful hair, same beautiful face, same beautiful sparkle in her eye, same…quality of being Robb’s little sister. Shit. And, if the Dragonroast incident is any indication, the same disinclination to have much at all to do with me._

For all that his brain was hitting the brakes, his traitorous, slightly inebriated feet had other ideas and he managed to come to a halt behind Sansa just as she added the contents of her pitcher to the crystal punch bowl. The idea of running away had popped into his mind, but not soon enough, as Sansa spun around to collide with him.

“Oh,” she began, “I’m so so—“

“Sansa! No, don’t worry about it, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Jon reached up and scratched behind his ear as he made up any excuse to be so close to her. He settled on a little joking self-deprecation. “I was only going to come say hello, and beg your forgiveness for startling you at Dragonroast that day, so naturally I managed to startle you again.”

He thought he detected a flush rising on Sansa’s cheeks.

“Oh no, I hope you haven’t been worrying about that! It wasn’t that you startled me, I was just really into my course reading, you know, it was very interesting and I was just surprised, is all. And, you know, it took me a minute to register it was you because, well,” Sansa had begun to ramble and it occurred to Jon that she might actually think she had offended him. Despite himself, he felt a grin coming on as she kept going, “I haven’t seen you in a while, and, really, it’s fine, I just…” Sansa caught on to his smile and took a breath. “Right, you knew that, of course. Well, hello to you too. I hope you’re enjoying yourself! If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my guests.”

Jon felt equal parts relieved and disappointed. “Of course. Thanks. Hopefully the next time we run into each other on campus, I won’t give you such a terrible fright!”

At least this time, Sansa knew he was exaggerating and gave him a smile. _That smile_ , Jon sighed. _That smile could inspire a thousand songs._ Before he could start to make one up, he was accosted by Arya, who very desperately needed to explain to him how to create the illusion of a stage chokehold by balancing opposing forces. Before he knew what was happening, he was swept up in the fierce little woman’s schemes. At least he could say he learned a new skill at the party?

Finally, after several more drinks, the countdown to the end of the old year ended. Last year, he had kissed Ygritte dispassionately when the clocks struck midnight, and was honestly much happier this year without her. Through the loving pairs and the raucous singles, though, he found his gaze settle on the first willowy redhead he had ever fancied. Looking at her now, with a wide smile on her face, he remembered a conversation he and Robb had had in primary school, probably around the time Bran was born.

“It must be nice to be having a real brother,” Jon had said. Jon was an only child while Robb had two sisters, but Jon had secretly thought that as long as Robb only had sisters, he would hold a special place in his friend’s heart like the brother he never had. But now Robb’s mum was having a baby boy, and Jon got more and more scared every day that this new baby would replace him as Jon’s best friend.

“It’s exciting! Just think of all the things we’re gonna teach him,” Robb had replied. Jon caught his pronouns.

“We?” he had asked.

“You and me! We’re gonna be the best big brothers this kid could ask for.”

“I won’t be his brother, though. I’m just your friend.”

“Aww, man, it feels like you’re my brother, though! I wish you were my real brother, too.”

This conversation had been important enough to Jon that he still remembered it, and he knew Robb remembered it as well. The reason he remembered this conversation at this particular moment, though, was a conversation he and Robb had had _about_ this conversation during their first summer holiday in college.

“I think back then I wasn’t just saying I hope we’re _friends-like-brothers_. I think I was hoping that some magic could make us actual brothers, or that we could somehow adopt you,” Robb had said to him after they had each had a couple beers.

“Eh, it all worked out in the end,” Jon had said, knocking his bottle with Robb’s in a sort of toast.

“I mean, who knows? It could still happen! I mean, you could always marry Arya! Hah!”

“Ugh, Robb, that would be like marrying my own sister, you goon! Keep dreaming.”

Robb had been laughing along with him but his face changed for a moment before he burst out in renewed guffaws.

“What?” Jon had asked.

“OH Seven save me, I just imagined you marrying SANSA instead of Arya! That would be _hilarious_! You two have nothing in common!! Sorry, mate, it’s so funny. Can you imagine? Ahaha! But at least she’s the one of my sisters who isn’t like a sister to you!” Robb may have tried to say more, but his laughing fit got the better of him. Jon had tried to laugh along with him, but felt something gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

 _This is why Robb doesn’t ever need to know that I think Sansa is beautiful and clever and everything I’d ever want a woman to be_ , he had told himself then.

And now, as he watched her take a swig of champagne, he knew he felt the same way. He still may not be close to her, but hearing about her plans and aspirations when he’d check in with Robb and Arya had made him admire her even more from afar. She’d never be his, and he didn’t even know if he _wanted_ her to be his, but was it so wrong for him to love her just a little?

As if she had heard his thoughts, Sansa’s eyes locked with his. When he registered that she was looking at him, he felt the blood rush to his ears and he pulled his eyes away. _Yeah_ , he thought, _she’s not mine to love, even a little_. He tried to occupy his mind elsewhere for the rest of the night, which became easier when Arya enlisted the whole troupe of young people to help her write a song for the Turning, with disastrously hilarious results. He and Theon had taken a cab there together and were planning to hail one back to their apartments at the end of the night, so when he felt Theon had done enough damage he pulled him away and said their farewells.

Jon made sure the much drunker Theon was dropped off first before he redirected the taxi to the tiny studio apartment he rented near campus. Fare paid and driver tipped, he trudged up the stairs and unlocked his door. He half considered collapsing on his couch instead of moving the papers that had accumulated on his bed, but decided that as a Responsible Adult ( _HAH_ ) he could at least manage that much. The papers, part of what he thought would turn into his thesis research, were about the followers of the Old religion and the evolution of their prayer practices.

They had originally thought the Old Gods could only hear their prayers if they spoke them out loud with a hand on their heart tree. Over thousands of years, their prayers evolved to silent prayers touching the heart tree, to silent prayers near the heart tree, to carrying a weirwood talisman on their person, and to simply hanging a weirwood pendant on their wall. There weren’t an abundance of weirwood trees these days, and even fewer were heart trees. Weirwood talismans and pendants had become artwork and home décor. Jon’s friend Sam and his fiancée Gilly had come across one they thought Jon might like that they gave him for Winterfall just the week past, and Jon had set it upon his bedside table.

Winterfall and the turning of the year were celebrated by all throughout Westeros these days, and were billed as holidays of the Seven, but they had their roots in the old ways. In the days before the seasons had become even, the First Men in the North observed these as days of prayer to sustain them through the hard times and to bring them through the darkness to their promised joy. Jon thought that he liked the sound of that. The corners of his mouth turned upward as his thumb rubbed the small white pendant carved in the shape of a wolf. _May the gods clear a path to my promised joy_ , he thought. Whether it was to the pendant, the Seven, the Old Gods, or just himself, he wasn’t sure.

As he settled in to sleep, he dreamed of red hair, blue eyes, and a tall white tree with a face that smiled on him.


	3. even nicer in person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kind feedback! If I could ask one tiny favor: if you happen across a dumb editing error and you don't mind, would you let me know? I think I found a "to" where there should have been a "too" earlier and it just eats at me when I can't find them again.

Sansa had decidedly NOT forgotten about her Jon dream when she woke the next morning. If anything, it seemed more real when she woke up the second time. She could still feel the ghosts of his hands, of his lips. She could still feel the heart-bursting, soaring intoxication that dream-Sansa had felt when she heard “ _I love you, Sansa Stark_ ,” and that was the most haunting part.

_Pull it together, Stark. You aren’t in love with Jon Snow. You barely even know Jon Snow. Now, why don’t you just get out of bed and let it fade?_

Thankfully, the remnants of her _real_ intoxication the night before were few and far between; Sansa was consistent in her ability to thwart a hangover. She knew Arya was not as fortunate, and decided the best way to take her mind off her own nonsense was to do something for someone else. Sansa found her parents in the kitchen, her father humming a tune while tending to a pan of bacon and her mother haggardly slapping some cinnamon rolls from a can onto a baking sheet. Ned caught Sansa’s eye and gave her a wink; the magic no-hangover gene had not been one Sansa had inherited from the Tully side of her family. Without a word, Sansa set to work dumping coffee grounds into the filter and filled the tank full of water. Where her parents had found a fourteen cup coffee pot Sansa was not sure, but it came in handy for a family of seven. Even though the Stark household was only five strong this morning ( _who is picking Bran and Rickon up from the kids’ party at the Reeds’? I should offer)_ , Catelyn, Robb, and Arya would need all the caffeine they could get. She switched on the machine and went to relieve her mother of the whisk she had picked up to attempt to scramble some eggs that still had some shell in them.

Sansa and Ned took care of breakfast and Catelyn ended up on the couch staring glassily at _Good Morning, Westeros_. Robb and Arya both eventually were lured downstairs by the smell of frying meat, planting themselves on either side of their mother with the same blank gaze.

After Sansa had pushed a mug of coffee into each of their hands and Ned had loaded up their plates with food, the rest of the Starks came back to life. Conversation sprouted over breakfast (“Arya, do you seriously not remember? You tried to rewrite the words of the Rains of Castamere to be about the Turning of the Year. Yes, you managed to keep the rhyme scheme intact. No, I will not sing it for you now.” “She’s not my girlfriend, Arya! Well. Okay, maybe a little. But just wait until you try to bring someone home someday and see if I don’t give you hell—sorry, Mum, _heck_ about it.” “Sansa, love, would you mind very much going to get your brothers? I don’t think I should be driving anywhere this morning.”), and Sansa helped her father clear the table. As Sansa left to retrieve Bran and Rickon, she was able to keep her mind on her to-do list for the rest of the week before she went back to school and off of Jon Snow. The afternoon was full of party clean-up and getting a start on laundry, and Sansa was satisfied that the “love” had faded away with the night before. The night ended with a fairly subdued game of Dornish train dominos—Arya only accused Rickon of cheating twice—and Sansa was ready for a night of _restful_ sleep.

_Ah, yes. Think about school. Think about your family. Count sheep. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about…_

_“_ Jon _,” she breathed, as she swept the hair from his forehead with her thumb. He loomed over her, eclipsing the lamp across the room. His eyes closed at her touch and he breathed in sharply through his nose. She strained up to brush his lips with her own. He chased her back down and caught them more firmly. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and brought it further into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue. She felt the soft skin of his cock brush against her sensitive folds as he lowered himself closer to her and she moaned into his mouth._

_“Jon, please,” she whimpered. “Don’t tease me like this tonight.”_

_He raised his eyebrows at her, the slightest hint of a grin playing at the corners of his beautiful, perfect mouth._

_“Tease you? Am I not allowed to kiss the woman I love?”_

_His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, and Sansa had frozen beneath him._

_“The woman you…love? You love me?”_

_“Gods, Sansa,” he groaned, but when he looked back at her there was a new determination in his eyes. “Aye. I love you. I’m in love with you. I think you know as well as I do.”_

_She studied the eyes that looked down on her for a moment in silence, and then gave him the smallest of smiles. “Then make love to me, Jon.”_

_Without another moment’s hesitation, he rejoined his lips to hers and cradled her head in his right hand while his left burned a path down her side, down her stomach, to his erection, and she could feel the tip poised to enter her and—_

Sansa’s eyes jolted open, her fists clutching her sheets and her pulse far too high. She took a moment to level her breathing then grabbed her phone from where it lay charging on her bedside table. 8:12. At least it was only three minutes before her alarm would have gone off anyway. She had brunch plans with Jeyne at 9:30, and she needed to take a very cold shower before she could meet up with her.

_\----------_

“Okay, get this,” Sansa said to Jeyne after a mimosa (or two) and the dwindling of their more urgent conversation topics. “I have had the _weirdest_ dreams the last two nights.”

Sansa took another bite of bacon as Jeyne studied her expectantly.

“Yes, okay, and? Did you want to tell me about it or just tell the worst story ever?”

Sansa felt herself blushing as she considered what to say. Did she actually want to tell Jeyne about this dream? _Maybe externalizing it will help it to not come back._

“Okay, so it’s just a dream and it’s actually rather funny, really, all things considering, but even so you have to _swear_ that you’ll never breathe it to a soul, okay? They were not normal, nice dreams. They were very…oh, what’s the word—“

“Naked?” Jeyne finished, eyebrow cocked at her. Sansa blushed further.

“Well, yes,” Sansa answered, unable to meet Jeyne’s eyes. “But not just that. Both dreams were like that but they were different, and in both dreams, it wasn’t just the being naked and doing…well, _stuff_ , but okay _never tell anyone_ _JonSnowandIwereinlove_.”

Jeyne coughed on her mimosa. “Excuse me? You and JO—“

“Shut up! Shut up! I know, didn’t I say it was weird? That was the weird part!! And, I don’t know. It was like when I woke up both mornings, I was still a little bit in love with him, you know?”

“Babe, there are totally worse people to be dream-in-love-with. Like. I saw him at your party the other night. He is _not_ bad to look at. And, I mean, he’s always been a nice bloke. And he’s been hanging around your house for forever.”

Sansa didn’t like the question in Jeyne’s eyes that hinted at reading too far in to this.

“Oh, well, I don’t actually have any feelings for him. Of course. I barely know him! He’s Robb’s best friend, he’s basically family. Really I only told you so we could have a laugh about it! I don’t think I need to analyze it too far, of course. It’s just so silly! Imagine him and me together, it would be ridiculous.”

Jeyne narrowed her eyes at her. “Alright, if you say so. But, I mean,” her smile grew, and Sansa hoped that would mean she was backing off, “maybe it’s a sign. You’re probably supposed to marry him now, right? Mrs. Jon Snow. Hah, that would be a laugh! He’s so not your type, oh, no, now that I think about it, that’s what’s so funny. He’s not even as tall as you! Oh, I’m never going to let you live this down!”

Jeyne carried on laughing, and Sansa felt relieved, if a little abused. _Just a good joke between friends now, really. Ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach. Ignore the way your heart jumped when she called you Mrs. Jon Snow. Laugh more convincingly, Sansa!_

“But really, you’ll have to let me know if it happens again. Oh, oh, or if it’s someone else next time! Watch it be Theon!” Sansa really could laugh at that one, because the hells would freeze over before Theon could ever commit strongly enough to one girl to tell her that he loved her.

\----------

“Picked up your textbook bundles from the bookstore, ladies! You’re welcome!” Beth announced on a gloomy day a couple weeks later. The girls were back in their dorm apartment getting things together to start their spring classes the day after the next. “Sans, come help me with yours! They were weirdly hard to carry. What class do you have that you have to read all these memoirs of dead septons? Or were you just hoping that boring religious books would help cool off your naughty dreams about Dark and Sexy?”

Sansa couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she slid the seven smaller books off the pile of standard hardcover textbooks in Beth’s arms. Jeyne had kept her word not to tell anyone, but Beth had started to get suspicious about the furtive looks and strange giggling, and Sansa had figured there was no harm in sharing her ridiculous dreams (because, no, they had not let up) with her as well.

“Hah hah, very funny. No, I needed another liberal arts elective, and I needed to find one that meets Tuesdays and Thursdays between nine and noon, and I ran across this one called ‘Religious Autobiography.’ I mean, I was pretty low on options or else I wouldn’t have looked at the syllabus, but I’m glad I did. I’ll have you know that not all of these books are by septons—some are by sep _ta_ s, or by red priestesses, or by other women of faith. More than half of the books on the reading list were by and about women and how the religions of Westeros have shaped their lives. I figured it might be something worthwhile for me to consider, if I want to work in law where it affects women’s issues.”

“Fine. But don’t go getting ideas about abandoning us for the silent sisters!”

\----------

Sansa’s course load was actually pretty light. She was in her final semester, so she just had an independent study course for her honors thesis, her religious autobiography course that was really just reading and writing, a seminar on the historical connections between dragon imagery and gender politics, and choir. Her honors thesis was on the alt-pop group the Rainbow Guard and its subversion of gender expectations through sound as well as imagery. She really couldn’t believe that it hadn’t already been done, but she was excited for it. She had her study carrel reserved in the main library, and it worked out that the religion elective she was taking was right by there, so she could carve out her Tuesday and Thursday afternoons for research and writing.

The first such day was a bright one, unseasonably warm for a day that was still really midwinter. The day before had been the first day of classes, and Sansa had felt very good about how things started off. Today, she loaded her laptop into her bag with the syllabi she had printed off of her course sites, put on only a single chunky cardigan over her blue flannel shirt. The walk across campus was a calm one, and she arrived at the building her class was in in plenty of time to locate the classroom and find a seat she liked. She only got turned around twice before she found it on the lower level. She could hear muted voices through the door, so she knew she wasn’t the first student there, but hopefully there would be plenty of good seats left. Sansa pushed open the door to get her first glimpse of whatever other kind of people took a religious autobiography course, and she felt her face light up red in an instant.

_Fuck._

_Fuck it all._

_His eyes are even nicer in person than they are in my dreams, though._


	4. a little 'stitious

“I didn’t realize this course has a dual listing as a class for grad students. If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have enrolled in it!”

Jon ladled soup into a bowl and chuckled at Sansa’s bemusement. “Honestly, I wouldn’t worry about it. People always assume that grad classes are harder, but really our professors know that we don’t want to jump through hoops. Besides, you undergrads here have twice the work ethic we do, so it should end up being a breeze for you.”

 _Especially for you, since you always end up being brilliant at everything_ , Jon didn’t say. He thought he must have been seeing things when Sansa walked through the doorway of the only actual class he was taking this semester, because what were the odds? She had looked as surprised as he had, but returned his timid smile. He had watched her eyes sweep the room and take in their classmates until she hesitantly began to approach. He had turned his eyes down at his hands and fiddled with his pencil as she sat down at the desk beside him.

“Hey,” she had started. “Are you, like, TAing this course, then?”

He had assured her that, no, he would not be grading her papers, that the course was just being offered in the graduate catalogue as well as the undergraduate. That was as far as they had gotten before their professor walked in the room.

After the class had finished, Jon had impulsively asked Sansa if she wanted to grab lunch. She steered him toward the small café that was housed in the building, and now here he was, soup and sandwich in hand, ready to spend some one-on-one time with Sansa Stark.

“So,” he began after a quiet moment. “What other kinds of classes are you taking this term?”

“Well,” she said, carefully snapping a carrot stick in halves to dip into some hummus, “I’m almost finished with my degree, so most of my time’ll be spent on research for my honors thesis. I’m only in the two seminars: this one’s for a humanities cred and the other’s for my major. Oh, and choir.”

Jon nodded. “Well, the research life will get you good and ready for grad school, if that’s something you’re looking to do. I’m starting to understand why some people take the better part of a decade to finish up their doctorates.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” she agreed, before turning her eyes back to her food.

“Yeah.” They spent another moment in silence. Jon glanced up at Sansa once more and caught her doing the same as she swallowed a bite of her vegetables. She gave a quick, halfhearted smile as his mind turned, and, seeming to sense his blankness, she jumped in.

“So, sounds like Robb really enjoyed coaching this year. Think he’ll do it again next year?”

“Oh, yeah, he did great. He’d call me some to ask about strategy, but he really didn’t need to. He’s definitely got a handle on it. I bet he’ll keep it up.”

“Yeah, same.”

Silence.

Jon was strongly resisting the urge to pull out his phone and pretend to text to fill the space. He didn’t know what he was expecting from sitting down with Sansa, but he found himself much, much more nervous than he had ever expected to be and completely unsure of what he should say to her. He suspected that he knew much more about her life than she knew he knew because of his friendship with her brother and sister. Or maybe she did know, and she didn’t feel a need to recap it all for him since she knew he knew. Or maybe she knew more about him than he knew she knew for the same reason? Or maybe they just _both_ already knew all the same things about each other and their mutual acquaintances so there was nothing left to talk about? _Oh my gods, just quit spinning and say something, this isn’t an episode of Friends_.

“I’m looking forward to this class, I think,” he ventured. “It’s a lot of reading, but I think it really highlights some of the ways that the different religions around here have shaped the culture over the centuries.” Sansa was at least looking at him while she chewed, so he figured he could go on. “I mean, barely anybody follows the Old Religion anymore, and the people that do are usually in weird little sects that seem crazy to everybody else. But, you know, so many of the holidays and traditions of the Faith of the Seven were just kind of merged with stuff from the Old Religion so people would pick it up faster. I’m sure you already knew that—it’s just that it’s part of my research and I’m pretty heavy into it right now.” _She’s not an idiot, and she’s taking this class same as you. You don’t need to mansplain holidays._

She waved his apology off. “No, I totally understand. If I had a copper for every time I told Jeyne and Beth shit they already knew about music, I’d be able to buy a castle.” Jon grinned at that. “But really, I think about stuff like what you’re talking about all the time, too. Like how most of our superstitions and old wives tales and such are actually rooted in some Old Religion beliefs and practices but we still believe them. Some people more than others, of course. I’d say that I’m not superstitious, but I am a _little_ ‘stitious,” she finished, the corners of her lips tugging upward as she took a bite of her wrap.

 Jon laughed at that. “Peak Mychael Snow, there. I take it you’re also a fan of _The Office_?”

Sansa finally gave him a real smile. “I’ve been watching almost since it first came out. I figured you’d know that, since you were the one Robb started watching it with! Then he came home and got Dad and me hooked on it too, and I’ve been addicted ever since. I’m so not ready for it to be ending this year!”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that finale is coming up sooner than I realized! Guess I’ll have to find another regular show after it’s over. Or maybe I shouldn’t, since I should probably be working on my dissertation.”

“Nah, I think you _have_ to have a show you can turn on to get away from the work for a little while. But maybe I do it too much,” Sansa chuckled, shaking her head. “Since the beginning of the winter holiday, I’ve been methodically re-watching all of _The Office_ on StreamShoz, since Robb lets me use his login. They have all but this past season on there, and I’ve burned through so many that I should probably be embarrassed about it. I’m kind of bummed, actually, I’m almost out of episodes to watch, but I don’t have Valar+ to watch this past season before the next one starts,” she frowned.

As seemed to happen around Sansa Stark, Jon found himself speaking before he had a chance to think his words through: “Oh, wow, that’s…that’s crazy, because I was just about to re-watch the last season too!” _Well, not really, but I’ve seen it enough that I am always kind of re-watching it, right?_ “And, well, I have Valar+. I guess—well, not that you’d necessarily want to, but,” he gulped, “you’d always be welcome to, you know, come watch with me since you don’t have it yourself.”

A quizzical smile emerged on Sansa’s face. “Well, I wouldn’t want to put you out. I’m sure you have a busy schedule.”

Jon could feel the tips of his ears starting to burn, mercifully covered by his hair. Maybe it had been a bad idea to put it out there. He had hoped Sansa would see this simply as a sincere, friendly offer and not as a _StreamShoz and chill_ type situation ( _although you might wish it that way, Jon, she’s off limits and not into you anyway so cut it out_ ), but he also hadn’t wanted to sound like he felt obligated to offer. He tried to measure his response between the two.

“Honestly, I could really use some company. I don’t know a whole lot of people who live around here anymore, so it would be a welcome change to have someone around to hang out with. So, yeah, if you ever want to come over and watch, you have my number, right?”

He watched Sansa’s brow relax into a real smile. “Yeah, I do. That could be fun! I’ll let you know when I get done with the season before and we can start watching together. It’ll be fun!” She took the last bite of her wrap and looked at her watch. “For now, though, I’ve got to run. Trying to keep myself on a schedule with all this independent research! I guess I’ll see you Thursday, then?”

Jon smiled. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.” _Too much, maybe_.

 

\----------

Tuesdays and Thursdays quickly became bright spots in Jon’s week. He didn’t always get lunch with Sansa, but usually they’d grab a bite on one or the other, and their conversations became less stilted as time went on. Sansa had texted Jon the Sunday afternoon after their first week to say that she had gotten to the end of her streaming binge on StreamShoz, and he had suggested Monday evening watch-and-study. She brought her laptop and notebooks and they sat at opposite ends of his couch while the TV played through a few episodes. And then they did it again the next Monday, and then it became a routine. Sometimes they would talk about the books they were reading or the papers they were writing in their shared class, or Sansa would talk about the pretentious Valyrian student in her “dragon gender” seminar. Sometimes they’d compare notes on Robb and his girlfriend or on Arya and her (sometimes frightening) dedication to character study. Always, Jon would wonder what it would be like to just swallow his fear and sit down next to Sansa instead of keeping her at arm’s length. Always, after she left, Jon would wonder, just for a moment, what it would have been like to kiss her goodnight or, better yet, have her stay.

Jon had definitely noticed an increase in his vaguely romantic thoughts about his friend’s sister after the party at her family’s home. Something about the light in her eyes in that moment as the old year turned over into the new had bored into his brain…and some of his other parts. He dreamed about her more often than he would like, and not all of those dreams were completely innocent. The mornings he relieved himself with the image of Sansa in his mind made him feel like he was hiding something important from Robb any time they talked, and he feared he was becoming a paranoid that Robb could read minds.

Not in even his wildest dreams, though, had he ever imagined that such an important friendship with Sansa would have sprung up so quickly. She seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with him, not just his internet TV, and he found that he loved to watch her as much as the show. He loved to see her laugh at the show, he loved to watch the cogs turn in her brain while she sifted through reading notes, he loved the way her eyes lit up when she had a breakthrough, and he may have just loved her— _no, Jon. She’s still not yours to love. Right?_

He always tried to quench those thoughts as soon as he had them, but it became harder the more time he spent with her. She would sometimes text him funny things going on in her day, and she became the first person he wanted to tell if he had a productive research session or saw a cute dog. If he hadn’t loved her, just a little, before, he certainly did now.

One Sunday evening, about a month after they had begun their watch and study routine, he was scrolling through his Valar+ feed to catch up on the nightly comedy news show he liked to watch when he got the feeling something was off. He scrolled back up and frowned. _Where did it go?_ He went to the search function and started typing. _T-H-E-space-O-F-F_ – _oh, shit_. There, in plain Common Tongue, was the episode listing: “Final Season Preview 1,” “Final Season Preview 2,” “Final Season Preview 3,” “Final Season Trailer.” They were only halfway through the previous season but it was nowhere to be found.

Jon’s heart sank. He couldn’t invite Sansa over to watch _The Office_ if there was no more _The Office_ to watch, but it had become such a convenient excuse to hang out with her. He sighed as he pulled out his phone to let her know the situation.

 

8:46 PM

_Bad news – looks like the office got_  
pulled from valar+ :( _looks like we won’t_  
_be able to finish that rewatch after all_

**S:** _Oh NO_

**S:** _Wait_

**S:** _Oh okay actually we’re fine_

**S:** _It’s available on streamshoz starting on  
wednesday_

_Oh cool_

_Guess you’ll be able to get through it then!_

**S:** _Yeah it’ll be great!!_

**S:** _I’m sure Robb won’t mind you having his login  
too lol :)_

**S:** _See you tomorrow then??_

_Yeah, see you tomorrow!_

                Jon let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He shouldn’t have been worried that she would just want to finish it on her own, but he had been all the same. He would get to keep his cherished routine _and_ his fantasies of more-than-friendship with his best friend’s beautiful younger sister—no. With _his_ beautiful friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends,
> 
> Apologies on the long wait for such a small piece of the story! I'm in the process of buying a house and planning my wedding and LIFE IS HAPPENING greatly right now. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> (edited from an unnecessarily self-deprecating note thanks for being nice)


	5. the absolute paragon of subtlety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well well well look who decided to say "suck it" to her ADHD brain and put words on metaphorical paper once more (it me)

_“Mmm,” Sansa protested as Jon shifted underneath her. “Nope. You can’t get up, I’m sleeping.”_

_“You’re not sleeping if you’re talking to me, though, are you?”_

_“Shh. Sleeping.”_

_She squinted open her eyes to take a peek at Jon as he chuckled at her._

_“You’re a goofball. You know I have to work on this paper, though. I’ll still be right here!” responded Jon to Sansa’s pout. “Here, just sit up for a second and turn around so your head is over there and you can still tuck your feet in my lap—“_

_“Fiiine, I’m up, I’m up. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” With a twinkle in her eye, Sansa stood and dramatically flipped her hair. “I shall leave forthwith, to suffer alone, cold and tired—“_

_“Hey, no you don’t!”_

_Jon’s hands on her waist pulled her back down into his lap on the couch, quieting her giggled protests with a firm kiss. Sansa wrinkled her nose and pressed it to his for a moment before pulling back to look at him squarely._

_“Okay, fine. You may proceed with your ever-important doctoral studies, I suppose. I need to do some annotations for Royce’s seminar, too, so I’ll work on those and then sort out a snack. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you barely ate anything for dinner!” Sansa pushed one final kiss on his forehead as she hopped up to grab her laptop._

_“You’re always trying to feed me!”_

_“Yep,” Sansa retorted over her shoulder, “Guess it’s too bad for you that I don’t want you to starve!”_

_“Sans...” Jon’s tone was suddenly serious as she turned back to him. “Sans, I love you._

_Sansa felt the warmth in her chest radiate up to split her face into a blistering smile, finally bursting forth in a sweet laugh. Jon’s eyebrows began to raise in confusion and Sansa covered her still-beaming face with her hands in apology._

_“No, no, sorry, I’m not laughing at you. No. Jon. I’m just happy.” His eyebrows were still cocked but his lips hinted at a smile as Sansa reached out for him. “I love you, Jon. I love you.”_

\----------

“Girl.” Jeyne’s face was incredulous. “Girl, you’ve got it _bad_. You’re telling me there wasn’t even sex in this one?”

“I know. Somehow it’s worse that way, isn’t it?” Sansa rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “And, like. I don’t know. It’s so close to how things already are! Everything is confusing and terrible and wonderful and I just—ugh. I need them to stop! It’s so weird!” Sansa grabbed another piece of the pink heart-covered candy that Beth had brought home after her work-study’s Aglantine’s Day party. The irony of eating the candy of such an overly romanticized, overly commercialized, sickeningly lovey-dovey holiday as she recapped her most recent Jon dream to Jeyne was not lost on her. Jeyne pouted in sympathy.

“I don’t know! You two spend a lot of time together now! I mean, what are the chances that he doesn’t at least feel something toward you? I mean, does he spend this much time with any other girl outside of classes or anything?”

Sansa frowned. “I mean, I don’t think so, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything! Pretty much the only people he hangs out with are his friend Sam and Theon, and sometimes Grenn and Pyp. Or Edd. So it’s not like he’s entertaining a different girl every night, but it’s also not like he’s entertaining anyone most nights. Theon has joined us a few times, even, so I think I’m just replacing Robb in their little group. Doing friend stuff. I don’t know. I mean, I think Theon is even coming over tomorrow to hang out with us.”

With mid-terms immediately before her, Sansa had figured it might be best to include a feelings buffer in her evenings with Jon. Theon had been around a few times when she had been at Jon’s the past few weeks, and she had found him to be a welcome distraction from the tension she felt when she and Jon were alone. She could actually halfway turn her nerves off and work on homework with him there to crack jokes and, unknown to him, remind her of her true place in this friendship. Her brother’s other childhood best friend, Theon had been far more outgoing than Jon and hadn’t given Sansa the same berth. Sansa had understood Theon better as a child and their teasing, familial relationship had persisted in the ensuing years in a way that her relationship with Jon had not, and that relationship only grew stronger as the three reincorporated with each other now. They didn’t only watch _The Office_ ; they sometimes watched other comedies or played video games. Sansa could comfortably settle in next to Theon, who she knew would only ever feel like a brother, and enjoy herself without dwelling on her dream-life with Jon. Sometimes Jon’s other friends could be buffers as well, but Grenn, Pyp, and Edd didn’t have that comfortable familiarity with Sansa that she and Theon had rekindled. Sansa had really taken to Jon’s friend Sam, but his upcoming wedding only helped remind Sansa of the way that commitment felt in her dreams, so sometimes that was worse than just Jon alone.

“Sansa. I just don’t think you’re a good judge of what’s happening here. You’ve been telling me about these dreams for like three months. You two have been hanging out for _like three months._ All the time. I feel like he sees you more than I do now! I know things are weird because you’re unsure about relationships these days since you transferred and because you’ve known him for forever, but if you two were anyone else and you were telling me about this I would say that you’re kind of a thing.”

“Ugh, I know! That’s would I would think too! But I just think it’s so unlikely, you know?”

Jeyne’s face scrunched in thought for a moment before her mouth and eyebrow both twitched upward.

“Here’s a thought,” Jeyne ventured. “You, my dear, are having a hard time separating the real from the feels, right? What you need are a set of less emotionally compromised eyes on your side. Theon’s coming to Jon’s with you tomorrow? Well, so am I.”

\----------

“Aren’t you going to call Jon to come let us in?” Jeyne shivered as she and Sansa approached the outer door to Jon’s building. Sansa shook her head in response as she quickly punched the three-digit entry code into the dated keypad. Jeyne rolled her eyes at that. “No, of course you have the code to get in. You practically live here these days. Because you loooove him.”

“Shut up,” Sansa countered. She wouldn’t let Jeyne see the hint of a smile that lit up her eyes. The two headed down the hallway under the flickering fluorescents until Sansa finished the now-practiced route to Jon’s door, where she hesitated. “Don’t be weird, okay?”

“Excuse you, I am _never_ weird!” Jeyne scoffed. “I am an unbiased observer, the absolute paragon of subtlety. Unless you don’t want me to be, in which case just give me the look. Ready when you are!”

Sansa squared her shoulders, knocked twice, and opened the unlocked door. “Knock knock,” she couldn’t help but add. “Look who decided to join us tonight!”

“Jeyne Poole, as I fuckin’ live and breathe!” Theon said by way of greeting as he poked his head out of the kitchen. “What a throwback. Does she know what she’s in for, Sansa?”

“I’m sure Sansa wouldn’t have left her in the dark about our intentions,” Jon’s voice rang from his bedroom.

Sansa wrinkled her brow. “I thought you guys were joking about this.”

Jeyne looked from Sansa to Theon. “Haven’t you guys been watching _The Office_? That’s what I’ve heard about.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what those two have been doing,” Theon said as he mixed a bottle of lemon lime soda with cheap vodka and flavored drink mix, “but tonight! Tonight we embark on the greatest film series of our generation! A marathon of movies close to my own heart! The defining franchise of a millennium!”

Jeyne looked around, waiting to be clued in. Sansa groaned. Leave it to Theon, and Jon at his silliest, to plan—

“ _Krakenado_!”

\----------

Jon could not claim nearly the level of enthusiasm about the _Krakenado_ series as Theon did but his curiosity had gotten the best of him when he found out that there had been not one, not three, but FIVE sequels to the first, gods-awful movie. He had been looking forward to lampooning both the films and Theon’s un-ironic enjoyment of them with Sansa, but her hesitation now had him worried that this had been a mistake. He gave his slightly damp hair one more towel-off before he stepped out into the living room to better assess the situation: Sansa with one hand covering her face while Theon and Jeyne both flailed with excitement.

“Whaaaat??” Jeyne replied through her histrionics. “Those movies are _so_ _stupid_! I _love_ them!! Gods, we can’t get through all of them in one night, though, can we?”

“Not with that attitude we can’t!” Theon said, handing her a cup of the drink he and Robb had dubbed “Green Viper.” “If we don’t finish them, though, gives us another chance to get smashed and shout at the TV, doesn’t it?”

“Good point, my good ser,” Jeyne replied, lifting her cup in a toast. Jon caught a wry smile begin to emerge on Sansa’s face and he could relax once more. If he was going to keep inviting Theon as _definitely-NOT-a-buffer_ it was inevitable that they would eventually have to allow Theon to pick the viewing media but Jon knew he would do just about anything to make sure Sansa was happy, including smacking down his old friend’s drunken hopes and dreams.

Sansa was still shaking her head at Theon and Jeyne as she stepped in the kitchen, where Jon caught up to her.

Jon opened a cabinet to pull down plastic souvenir cups for them to use. “You sure you’re okay to watch this? I know we still have some shows to catch up on, but Theon was adamant.”

Sansa laughed, in that way that made Jon’s heart miss a beat ( _any way she laughs makes my heart miss a beat, though, doesn’t it?_ ) and she poured Green Viper into the cups he held out. “I think I knew it was inevitable. I mostly didn’t want Jeyne to be scared off right off the bat, but I forgot that she and Theon were as good of friends when we were kids as any of us were. It’s okay that I brought her along, right?” Her eyes sparkled sincerely as she lowered her voice.

“Of course it is,” Jon answered. “You’re welcome to bring along whoever you’d like, whenever.” _Unless it’s another guy, which is patently prohibited_.

Sansa stepped back through to the living room while Jon tidied up the remnants Theon’s drink-making had left around the kitchen. He had been grateful for Theon’s presence with them, and his other mates when they made themselves available, even if a part of him did long to have Sansa to himself. He hoped that having other people around would help distract him to how utterly perfect she was in every way, but it wasn’t really working. In fact, Jon was beginning to worry that not only was his plan not working: it was beginning to backfire on him. His friends _loved_ her. Grenn had the gall to wink at her once, which had Jon blowing smoke out his nose, and Sam was even worse: Sam had the _audacity_ to suggest to Jon that Sansa could be a fun date for him to bring to the upcoming wedding. How _dare_ Sam notice the way Jon looked at Sansa when she wasn’t watching? If Sam saw it, Jon knew he was failing in his efforts to keep her at emotional arm’s length. She hadn’t seemed to notice, though, which was good, and Theon also hadn’t seemed to notice, which was even better. Now Jon just had to make sure Jeyne stayed in the dark, too.

Jon joined the others in the living room, where Theon was finishing his search for the first _Krakenado_ movie on Robb’s Streamshoz account. Theon had situated himself in the middle of the full couch, unsurprisingly, where he could manspread to his heart’s content, and the girls’ coats and bags were on the far side of the couch. Sansa, who usually shared the full couch with them, had instead curled up on the loveseat, where Jon figured she would sit with Jeyne. As Jon moved closer, though, he saw Jeyne glance quickly at Sansa before she sat down by Theon.

Until this moment, Jon had not been aware that a heart could both sink into your stomach _and_ rise into your throat at the same time. He looked to Sansa, who was giving Jeyne a curious look, and to Jeyne, whose face was almost suspiciously blank, and to Theon, ready to press play with a face like a child on Winterfall morning, and finally back to Sansa, who was now looking down at her hands. _Get a grip, Snow, for the millionth time_. He sat down by Sansa, who pulled her knees closer to her chest to get her feet out of his way, and tried to look as normal as possible. But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he probably looked like a lovesick dummy. As he took in the rest of the room, he had a sinking suspicion that Jeyne could see it, too.

_Well. Fuck._

\----------

As _Krakenado_ got underway, Sansa figured she probably missed the first twenty minutes of the movie in her attempts to give Jeyne the stink eye. _Unbiased observer, my ass_. Sansa had decidedly NOT given Jeyne “the look” or any other look that should have provoked her to force them to snuggle. Their closeness on the couch was atypical, made so much worse by the dream she had shared with Jeyne the day before which had taken place on this very couch. Jon must have showered right before they got there, and she was in a better position than usual to appreciate how wonderful he smelled and the warmth he gave off. When she wasn’t cursing Jeyne’s very existence, she couldn’t help but study which of Jon’s curls were still wet and which had dried first, and the way the movie reflected off his eyes. Jeyne and Theon were boisterously cracking jokes at the movie’s expense, but Jon seemed content to sit back and watch them and the movie—and from time to time, she thought she caught him watching her, too.

As the movie wore on and kraken fell from the sky to eat the cast one by one, Sansa couldn’t help but relax. This wasn’t so bad. Just two friends, chilling on a loveseat, a few inches apart because they’re just friends. She didn’t notice realize her feet had slid back to rest on the side of Jon’s leg until she saw his head turn to glance down at them.

“Are your feet seriously that cold? I can feel the chill radiating through my jeans. Are you secretly undead or something?”

Sansa could only respond by sticking her tongue out at him, any words caught in her throat. She moved to pull her feet back toward herself, but he rolled his eyes with a grin, shook out the blanket sitting on the floor next to him and threw it over her legs. “There. Can’t have your feet falling off on my watch, now, can we? Between the blanket and my leg, which is, you know, the normal temperature of a living person, we should be able to save them.”

Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle at him, and let her feet rest back against his thigh. _Krakenado_ wasn’t so bad if she got to watch it like this, and as much as she wanted to be mad at Jeyne, she didn’t have it in her. Nevertheless, Sansa spent the rest of the evening with her eyes trained on the screen, because she couldn’t bear the smarmy grin on Jeyne’s face.


End file.
